


Defender

by LadyoftheWoods



Series: Supportive Sides [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective Virgil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 06:00:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23466529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWoods/pseuds/LadyoftheWoods
Summary: Roman gets overwhelmed. Virgil steps in.
Series: Supportive Sides [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688140
Comments: 9
Kudos: 191





	Defender

**Author's Note:**

> A little continuation of Cornered, I'm getting the hang of writing one shots without them turning into a 100 page document.

He doesn’t know quite how it got this bad. He just knows one minute it was fine, and the next minute it wasn’t. 

Deceit had shown up, all suave suit and knowing smirk, butting in on the latest dilemma. The others dismissed him, of course. 

But something was different. He could feel the frustration rolling off the side, at not being listened to, not even being given a chance, and the more he looked, the more he saw. 

The scowl on Deceit's lips that he’d taken as perpetual disdain was a mask to hide the sting of being ignored, the splash of yellow on his clothes was to make himself brighter, force them to notice him. He could see the fury and hurt and hopelessness on him like a well worn coat, and frowned, thinking of Virgil. 

Once they’d opened up, actually gave Virgil a chance instead of dismissing him, everything had become smoother. He’d opened up, he’d been heard, he didn’t need to be scary anymore to be accepted. 

Why was Deceit any different? He was just trying to help. He was putting on the act he thought they all might listen to, at least be forced to pay attention to, because he didn’t have a seat at the table. 

And truly, was his idea so bad? Thomas needed a break, they all knew it, perhaps he and Virgil felt it more than the others, but he needed a day off. Hed scheduled the day off, before one of his friends texted asking if he could help a friend of theirs move. 

Deceit’s plan was simple: say he couldn’t. The reason didn’t really matter, Thomas was sick or had an appointment elsewhere or had family stuff going on. Patton, of course, wouldn’t hear it, thought they should help, because it was “the right thing to do" and Logan thought they should just tell the truth but… 

But why not lie? Thomas needed the day. Deceit had an excuse. A simple text, no one the wiser. 

He met Virgil's eyes, who had been standing silently, anxiously, taking the arguments in. He tilted his head, teeth teasing his lip, and nodded, as if reading Roman’s mind. He nodded back. At the least he’d have Virgil on his team, then. 

He cleared his throat, stepping forwards. Deceit’s eyes narrowed, shoulders tensing in anticipation of a blow yet to come. Logan simply looked done, and Patton gazed at him with those puppy dog eyes, making his next words even harder. 

“I think Deceit’s right.” 

“What?!” Patton. 

“surely I misheard, Roman you certainly did not just agree with me.” Deceit, and Roman almost laughed at the genuine surprise in his voice. 

Now it was all wrong. Patton is speaking, scolding, lecturing about the right thing to do, Logan is talking over him, trying to convince Patton that a break is needed, Deceit is defending himself, his actions, trying to defend Roman, but no one listens. 

It is too loud, too confrontational, too much. Words are overlapping and he can’t hear right and he’s swamped in noise, ringing in his ears, despite his hands clapped over them because it was too loud and too much and his fault and if he was just better he wouldn’t be cowering right now, he’d be doing something- 

“ENOUGH!” He flinches at the volume, so loud and so close, but the others stop their fighting and he sighs in relief at the utter silence in the wake of Virgil’s shout. 

Roman realizes Virgil is standing before him, eyes crackling and arms spread, as if to hide Roman from view. He finds the gesture oddly soothing, oddly protective, Virgil shielding him from the stares, the glares. 

“Kiddo-" 

“Shut it, Pat.” He snaps, a hint of tempest tongue lacing his words. Roman flinches as Patton draws back as if struck, hurt flashing across his face, but Virgil clearly doesn’t care at the moment. Instead he turns to Roman, instantly softening as he crouches down before him. 

“Hey, Princey. You ok?” he murmurs gently, and all he can do is shake his head because no, he’s not. He’s tired, bone deep tired. He’s been running on nothing, brainstorming for days. Just the thought of going out, of moving, makes him want to crumble to dust. 

“Ok. That’s ok, Ro.” He feels Virgil turn back to the others, hears the steel in his voice. 

“Roman was right. Deceit is right. The “right thing" Pat? It’s not always the right thing for Thomas. You might not get this, but some of us are exhausted. There’s a reason today is a relaxation day. Lie, tell the truth, I don’t care. But we are not helping with a move. We are not leaving the house. Thomas is going to sit on the couch and eat chips and watch the office bloopers again and I’m going to go take care of Roman, and no, you cannot help,” Virgil stopped Patton before he could speak “because if you’d just listened for once instead of berating and scolding him for having an opinion different than yours, he wouldn’t be like this!” His tempest tongue had returned on his final words, and even Deceit looked shocked at his outburst, but he didn’t care, right now. 

“Don’t come find us until you’re ready to apologize and mean it.” Roman is as stunned as the others when Virgil turns back to him. He is amazed at how fast that face goes from hard and furious to soft and concerned. 

“Your room?” He asks, and Roman nods, he doesn’t care, really, just needs to not be here, and his room will do as well as anywhere else. Virgil nods, placing a hand on his shoulder, and they sink out. 

“sorry" is the first word out of his mouth as they rise up in his room, face burning with shame. What kind of prince falls apart this easily, can’t handle a simple argument, made a fool of themselves as he had? 

“Nope.” Virgil, popping the “p". He looks up, confused, despite his tone, Virgil is watching him seriously. 

“W-what?” 

“I have reviewed your apology and rejected it,” Roman wilted, seeming to grow smaller, “because it’s unnecessary and you have nothing to apologize for, Ro.” Virgil finishes firmly and Roman simply gapes at him because of course it’s his fault, everyone is upset because he spoke up. 

He realizes Virgil is looking around the room, and internally curses. It’s a mess right now, crumpled up papers strewn across the floor, rejected ideas thrown aside, his art supplies scattered throughout the room, his clothes tossed everywhere. He hadn’t had the energy to clean it, to stop trying to think because it was his job and he could do it, just one more idea, and he’d call it a night. 

“Roman.” He jumps. He’d forgotten Virgil was there, he’d zoned out. He was swaying on his feet, unable to hide just how tired he was without the others there to pretend for. 

And Virgil is furious, he knows exactly why Roman didn’t speak up, didn’t tell them it was this bad, that he desperately needed a break, that he was one step away from falling apart. But it isn’t Roman's fault, and he doesn’t want Roman thinking he’s angry with him, so he pushes that away in favor of kinder feelings as he realizes Roman is crying, silent tears, face almost numb. 

“Let’s get you to bed, okay?” he guides Princey to his bed, he's almost sleep walking, and climbs beneath the covers with no added coaxing. He tucks Roman in, about to excuse himself when Roman’s hand grabs his wrist. He doesn’t speak, but the desperation in his eyes is easy to read and Virgil softens. 

“You want me to stay?” Roman nods so fast it makes Virgil chuckle. “ok, Ro. Music?” He asks, and Roman nods again. Virgil pulls out his phone and taps on the playlist he’d made ages ago for moments like this, when he was feeling overwhelmed. A mix of instrumental tracks, ambient noise, calming songs. 

“When you feel better I’ll help you clean all this up, yeah? Maybe we can play a Smash tourney or something.” Virgil says as he sets his phone down on the nightstand, looking back over to Roman. He is still crying, curled tight, but he nods slightly, smiles bravely. Virgil lets out a smile himself, surprising Roman by slipping under the covers with him, becoming the big spoon. Usually that’s Roman’s role, the protector, the warmth giver, but today Roman could use the safety and security more than Virgil could. 

He’s proven correct as Roman curls tighter against him, burrying his head against Virgil’s chest, crying until his sniffles die down into breathy gasps. Virgil is holding him tightly, mururing sweet things in his ear, how special he is, how important, how amazing, how remarkable, how talented and strong and brave, and Roman doesn’t have the energy to argue against him, because Virgil is wrong. He is none of those things, doesn’t feel like any of those things, he feels weak and silly and stupid. Especially after today. 

But Virgil won’t hear it, just responds fiercly that he’s wrong, he’s worth so much more than he knows, than any of them realize or acknowledge, that he is important and very, very loved, until Roman starts to maybe believe him, just a bit. 

“thanks.” He manages, feeling himself starting to drift. It’s warm, and quiet, and Virgil’s presence screams of safety and calm and peace, and he can’t help but sucumb to his exhaustion. 

“Of course, Ro. I’m always here. I’ll always help, if you need it. Doesn’t matter if it’s Remus or Patton. I’ll be here.” Roman wraps his arms around Virgil’s middle, hugging him just as tightly as Virgil was, taking in his scent of coffee and wood shavings, never having been more grateful in his life for Virgil. 

They would worry about the others later. Right now, right here, they were content to catch up on all the sleep they’d been missing.


End file.
